


Give A Thought To The Stars

by thelilacfield



Series: there is no world where i am not yours [15]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, F/M, Falling In Love, Minor Wanda Maximoff/James "Bucky" Barnes, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27900847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilacfield/pseuds/thelilacfield
Summary: "Why do you need my help?” he asks, and she smiles. It does something to him, that smile, the sun peering sweetly over the horizon, starlight blazing over her face.“My boyfriend is up on the base,” she says, and something in him withers and dies in disappointment. Of course a girl like her is already someone’s. “I haven’t seen him in person in a year. But I really want to, and he can’t come back to Earth. So I want to go to Mars.”
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Series: there is no world where i am not yours [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859725
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	Give A Thought To The Stars

**A/N:** AU-dvent day 5! An interpretation of the Futuristic prompt from AU-gust!

I'm on Tumblr and Twitter **@mximoffromanoff** if anybody wants to chat about all things scarletvision! Enjoy, and please let me know with a comment if you do :)

**warning: infidelity, mention in dialogue of alcoholism**

* * *

He doesn't usually get stared at by pretty girls as intensely as the dark-haired girl in the deep red coat is staring at him across the café. And he's had plenty of people stare at him in public places across the last few months, ever since Tony Stark conferenced in from the Atlas Station to tell the world he had chosen a new junior researcher to join him and his team on Mars for a year. He's become accustomed to keeping his head down and turning his collar up, unnerved by the possibility of recognition, of any adulation for who he is now.

But something about this girl is different. Maybe it's the unwavering heaviness of her gaze, her pretty face, hair curling over the collar of her coat in the line stretching in front of the weary-looking barista. He stays staring down at his tablet, the pages and pages of everything he still needs to learn before his shuttle leaves for Mars in two weeks, until the purposeful sound of heels tapping towards him draws his attention.

And she pulls out the chair in front of him without so much as a question. He stares at her, noticing now her green eyes, the mismatched wings of her eyeliner, the scattering of freckles across her nose, the silvery polish on her fingers curling around her cardboard coffee cup. "Are you Victor Shade?" she asks, and her voice is accented, and there's heat curling colour into his cheeks.

"Um..."

"Oh, eloquent, I see why you're the new researcher pick," she says, and he tries to straighten up and piece his professional mask together. He didn't expect to be blindsided by a pretty girl when he's just trying to spend some time in a café. After the next two weeks, he won't get the chance to sit in a bustling café surrounded by strangers for a long time. "Anyway, I'm Wanda. And I need your help, Victor."

"It...everyone calls me Vision," he says, and a slight quizzical frown creases the space between her eyebrows. It softens something about her intensity, and he has to take a deep breath to steady himself from the temptation to stare at her lips. Maybe today is an auspicious day under the divine thoughts of some ancient civilisation who loved the stars like he does. "And I'm afraid that I can't take any names to Mr. Stark, he was only looking for one research assistant-"

"Oh, I'm not interested in the research," she says. "It's very important, obviously. Future of humanity and all that. But I studied Art History, so I'm completely unqualified to go up there unless they want to hear a spiel about what the colour of the ground represents."

"Then why do you need my help?" he asks, and she smiles. It does something to him, that smile, the sun peering sweetly over the horizon, starlight blazing over her face. If he's not careful, she's going to put him in a trance.

"My boyfriend is up on the base," she says, and something in him withers and dies in disappointment. Of course a girl like her is already someone's. "I haven't seen him in person in a year. But I really want to, and he can't come back to Earth. So I want to go to Mars."

"Then...you should go through the proper channels," he says, and she rolls those pretty eyes. "Apply for a permit. Mr. Stark's wife is with him on the colony right now."

"I tried that," she says. "And they said they wouldn't give me a permit because I'm not married to him. Girlfriend of six years doesn't hold much weight no matter how much you sob story to the man on the phone, apparently. Just have to sign those legally binding documents to make it real." Then she _beams_ , and it makes his chest _ache_ , and this girl is really doing something helpless to him. "So I'm going to surprise him with a visit and propose! Won't that be romantic?!"

"Well...it would be," he says, and she nods, smiling so brightly at him in this little café. Then he swallows and carefully says, "But I'm sorry, I truly am," and the brightness fades out of her.

"Oh...you're not going to help me?" she asks, and the disappointment is so heavy in her voice that he wants to snatch the words back out the air, turn time back a few seconds to before he said that.

"I...it's taken years of my life to get to this point," he says. "I studied astrophysics because they made the announcement about colonising Mars when I was in high school. I can't ruin this job by bringing a stow-away with me."

"But it's _romantic_!" she insists. "I watched Stark's interviews about his wife, and he gets all mushy and soft about her. If I just explained...I know James will want to see me!"

He frowns at her and says, "I don't know of any James working security on the station."

And she sighs so long and hard it ruffles her hair and says, "You probably saw him listed on the personnel sheets as _Bucky_." A sip of her coffee, and her lip is curling disdainfully when she says, "I _hate_ that name. It makes him sound like some college douchebag, and he's not. I keep trying to get everyone else to call him James, but it's so ingrained now it's just me and his mom who don't nickname him."

"I will try to remember to call him James when I get up there," he says, and she turns another look on him. All hope and wide eyes and a smile like a magnet, and he sighs. "I suppose you have a plan for how you'll sneak yourself onto my shuttle?"

"I know they work, James showed me around the one that took him before he left," she says, almost beaming now. "There's room enough for two people, even if it might be a bit of a squeeze. And they come with those fancy food replicators, so we wouldn't have to worry about running out of food. And it's only three months to get there, right?"

"Three or four, depending on the positioning of Mars in relation to Earth," Vision says, and she's still smiling. "Don't you have a job you need to stay for? Family? Friends?"

"Oh, my family all died a long time ago," she says, pushing it away like it weighs as little as a feather. Like she hasn't just told a perfect stranger this and left his chest clenching in sympathy. "And I've taken time off work. I told them I was going travelling to find myself." She must notice his look, because she straightens up in her chair and says, "It's not a lie."

"It's not," he concedes, and she smiles smugly. "You're going to Mars to propose to your boyfriend."

"Exactly!" she says, and some coyness invades her smile. "So does that mean you'll take me with you?" When he reluctantly nods, she _beams_ , and it makes it worth the fear of what his new boss will say to him.

* * *

Wanda turns up at the launch site for his shuttle with a suitcase and a smile, and he looks at her and can't tear his eyes away. Her hair is in loose braids, the same red coat from the café wrapped around her, and there's something about her that draws his eyes. Like she's haloed in moonlight, so pretty with her breath rising silver in the air around her and her hand grabbing for the black beanie tucked over her forehead as the wind snatches at her. There are a thousand things he could say as he walks towards her, and every one of them has him reminding himself that she has a boyfriend, that he's sneaking her onto Mars so she can propose to him. Nothing is going to happen between them, he's fooling himself to think it.

What he actually says as she approaches him is, "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

"I brought you a hot chocolate!" she chirps, holding out the cup. "I figured that the dry-ass space food isn't going to be the same. How long are you contracted to stay up there, anyway?"

"A year," he says, and there's more he could say. He could tell her that he wants to stay on Mars for much longer than that, that he has nothing to come home to, nothing tying him down. But he doesn't, he holds the distance between them. "So it's just going to be the two of us on there. I know how everything on the shuttle works, and it'll autopilot itself to Mars. Just get your bags up there and hide away somewhere until launch."

"Ooh, illicit," she says, and he just watches her climb into the shuttle with her bag and disappear. He thinks about the flick of her skirt around her thighs while he talks to all the people lined up to make sure this launch goes smoothly, keeping their attention on him so they won't notice the stowaway.

When he closes the door of the shuttle behind him, he takes a long breath of the slightly stale shuttle air. In a few months, he'll be on another planet, the new research assistant to a man who is changing everything, shaping the future of humanity. He'll look at the stars from another angle and map the differences. He'll never have to look back at Earth and the loneliness of his life.

He watches every moment of take-off from the control panel of the shuttle, watches the blue sky turn to dark, his mind spinning with how lucky he is to get to watch this. For a moment, he forgets that he isn't alone.

Then Wanda crashes out of the quarter, her coat discarded for a simple black skirt and red jumper, and she says, "This is much nicer than the shuttle James went up in."

"That was a shared shuttle for all security," he says. "This is...Mr. Stark's private shuttle. It's normally used by his wife, but he sent it for me too."

"Ooh, you've got yourself a sugar daddy of a superior, Vision," she teases, and a flush creeps up to stain his cheeks. He turns his face away from her, hoping she won't notice, and she laughs. "Although I do have one question. Where am I going to sleep?"

"In the bed," he says immediately, and when he looks back she's tilted her head quizzically at him. One of her braids is unravelling, brushing over her shoulder, and the neckline of her jumper is low enough for him to see the gold ring on a chain around her neck and the shadow of her cleavage, and he has to clear his throat to disperse the tension in his body. "I'm going to take the chair. It's surprisingly comfortable."

"But it's your mission, you should have the bed!" she protests. "It's massive, anyway, Stark must've spent a fortune on this thing. We could probably share and never touch."

"I don't think sharing a bed with someone who is soon to be engaged to another man is appropriate," he says, and something soft and bright swims into Wanda's face. It makes her look so beautiful, makes his heart beat for her, and he shuts himself down. This tiny crush will destroy him if he lets it grow into something more.

"You think he'll say yes?" she asks, and her voice is so full of fragile hope that it shatters him.

"I think I'm living proof that you are difficult to say no to, Wanda," he says, and she turns a smile on him that lances straight to his heart.

He's made a very big mistake setting himself up to spend three or four months alone on this shuttle with her.

* * *

On Earth, he spent most of his life lonely. He convinced himself he didn't need other people so well that situations where he was around others made him feel strange. The day he moved into halls at university, he locked his door and listened to his new flatmates laughing in the kitchen, not knowing what to say. He always ties himself in knots with new people, doesn't know how to handle himself, folds himself in half and tries to pretend to be invisible.

It's not like that with Wanda. She bursts into his life like a firework, determined to be a spectacle, all colour and light and noise. For the first week on the shuttle, where he tried to stay distanced and continue to study the papers Tony sent him, prepare for life on Mars like he thought he would before that green-eyed whirlwind crashed into his life.

Then she sits down in the chair opposite him so heavily that it creaks in protest and groans, "I'm _bored_." She straightens up almost too quickly for his eyes to process and chirps, "Let's talk. Let's get to know each other. I don't know...what did you study at college? Where did you go?"

"Well, I...I got my BSc in Astrophysics in Edinburgh, then a Masters in Planetary Science in London," he says, and her eyes are huge. "Then a PhD in St. Andrews. Then I moved to the US and I was thinking of going back to school when the research assistant vacancy opened." He leans back in the chair, feeling a little stupid the way he always does when he lists his qualifications. "So, I...technically I'm Doctor Shade. But in the study of space, not something that could ever actually help people."

"Hey, don't knock yourself, space is cool," she says with a smile. "So, Doctor Shade-"

"Don't, I hate it," he says, feeling the tips of his ears turn pink.

"You should be proud to be a doctor," she says. "I bet you spent a lot of money to get all those fancy degrees. And it's getting you to Mars! All I've got is a BA in Art History from Chicago that entitles me to be an administrative assistant in a gallery and read a million jokes about how my degree is useless."

"No degree is useless," he says. "And you've probably spent significantly more time out of stuffy libraries and with other people than I have."

"Arts majors _are_ big partiers," she says, and he shakes his head. "I bet you were adorable at university. All serious and well-spoken and studious. Someone had a library crush on you, I bet."

"A...library crush?"

She must mistake his embarrassment for confusion, because she says, "You know, that cute person who's always on the same floor as you in the library and you get up and down twenty times in an hour hoping they'll notice you and freeze while you work because the third floor heating never works but you put on a cute little outfit hoping to catch their eye." Wistfulness mists her eyes and she says, "James was my library crush. Everyone made fun of me for putting on eyeliner to go to the library when I knew he'd be there."

"Did he ask you out while you were in the library?" he asks, putting on a brave face for this boyfriend discussion.

"Oh, I asked him," she says sunnily. "You might have noticed I'm not in the habit of waiting around for what I want to come to me."

"I had noticed," he mumbles, and she throws back her head and laughs.

"In his words, I cornered him in the stairwell and strong-armed him into going for coffee with me," she says, affectionately rolling her eyes. "But it must be right, because we've been together for six years."

"That's almost as long as I spent in academia," he says, and she laughs and bats at his shoulder. Her hand brushing him sends a spark skittering over his skin, even through the fabric of his cardigan, and he clears his throat. "If you want to pass some time, we could play chess? I brought my board with me."

"I'm shit at chess," she says cheerfully. "And you told me to pack light, but you brought a whole-ass chessboard?"

"It was present for my eighteenth birthday," he says, remembering the lonely morning and the teacher who presented him with the wrapped box. "From my favourite teacher. Ms. Cho always believed in me. Even when none of my foster families believed in me."

"Oh...you were a foster kid?" she asks, and he nods. "Me too."

And the distance between them shortens. They sit with the chessboard between them for a long time, her giggles and his patience showing her how to play, and he tries not to look at the pink flush layered over her knees beneath her skirt.

She's utterly distracting, but he can't let himself be tangled in her. Only sadness lies in that direction.

* * *

The day they mark two months on the shuttle, he's reading in the pilot's chair when Wanda comes bouncing out of the quarters. Her hair is wet, drying in loose waves over her shoulders, and she's wearing tight black jeans and a striped jumper that leaves her shoulders bare, and there's something so tempting about her pale collarbones shifting beneath her skin. There's the dark dot of a mole on her right shoulder, and Vision stares hard at the pages of his book to distract himself from the thought of pressing his lips to it.

"Why are you _reading_?" she whines, and he carefully marks his page before he looks up at her, pointedly not taking off his reading glasses. "Vizh, we're in _space_ , and you're not even looking out of the window!"

"I told you to bring books," he says, and sets his down with a heavy thud. "I've always meant to read _War and Peace_ , and this seemed like a good opportunity!"

"Is that the big Russian one where everyone has nine names?" she asks, and he shakes his head hopelessly at her, affection still warming him. "They made a musical out of a fifty-page chunk, right?" He blinks, and she shrugs. "Art History major, remember? I knew a lot of theatre kids."

"If you're so determined that I'm not going to read, you should find something else for us to do," he says, and she smiles.

"It's Christmas back at home," she says. "We could see how shit the freeze-dried hot chocolate is and watch a festive movie?"

And he ends up with her tucked into his side, a mug of hot chocolate that, frankly, tastes like dust with a faint whisper of sugar, watching _Love Actually_. She's smiling softly at the screen, and he's watching her more than the movie. Counting the freckles on her face, watching the chain of her necklace shift slightly against her skin, watching the dreaminess in her eyes at all the declarations of love and devotion that are built into the plot.

The credits roll, and the spell seems to break. She sits up straight, uncurling herself from him, taking away her warmth and the sharp scent of her perfume. Then she looks at him, her face soft in the low light, and says, "I talk too much. You should tell me about you."

"Honestly, Wanda, I've spent so much of my life studying that there wasn't much time for anything else," he says, and she shakes her head.

"Well, there must have been something at some point," she says. "What about family? Friends? A...girlfriend?"

"No one," he says, and sadness dims the light in her eyes. "My uni girlfriend and I broke up when I moved to the US. It was all very...amicable."

"Oh, come _on_ , you have to tell me more than that!" she insists, and he smiles slightly. Two months in her company, and his affection for her is only growing. He's tangling himself in something that could be excruciating. "What was she like? A name, even."

"Virginia," he says softly, the memory of her face floating back. He has no idea how she is these days, but he hopes she found someone. "We met at St. Andrews. I went to a creative writing society meeting, and she was the president."

"That checks out," she says, and laughs. "So it was a university romance?"

"I was doing my PhD, and she was doing a Masters in gender in writing," he says, and it takes him back to the beach, to his first girlfriend by his side, to her smile. "We were together for two years, and then I decided to move to the US. The last I heard of her she was writing for a blog about literature and gender discrimination. I hope she's happy."

"I was hoping for at least a juicy break-up story," Wanda teases, and he just shakes his head. "Can I justify telling you more about me and James now?"

"Tell me whatever you want," he says. "I like listening to you."

Her eyes brighten, and she asks, "Can I show you the ring I got him?" A wordless nod from him, and she darts away, returning with a blue velvet box cradled reverently in her hands. "It's simple, obviously. I'm an art gallery administrative assistant, I can't afford much. But...you know, couples always replace their engagement rings when they have more money."

She clicks the box open, and he stares. The simple silver ring is nestled tightly in black velvet, reflecting the blue and green and red lights of the control panels surrounding them, and he has to bite back a sad sigh. No matter that he knows the warmth of her curled up to him, the smell of her perfume, has seen her soft and sleepy in the early mornings and known the permanent crick in his neck from sleeping in the captain's chair is worth it. She's in love with someone else, and she'll never be his.

"It's lovely," he says, and there's so much heartbreaking happiness in her face. "Simple. Elegant. Timeless. He'll like it."

"I hope you two get to meet," she says. "I think he'd like you." Then, a laugh. "Well, he'd have to. Because I like you."

"I like you too," he says, and she smiles. And he holds it close to his heart like a stolen piece of sunlight, dreaming of her when he sleeps in the chair, his length curled awkwardly into the soft leather.

He pretends it doesn't hurt.

* * *

It's Wanda's birthday. She's been telling him every chance she gets that it was approaching, that she's going to be twenty-six, and against his better judgement he's done what he could on the shuttle to make them a party. He found a stash of champagne, no doubt left there by Tony, and he's thanking his foresight in bringing his bag of crochet hooks and yarn with him. What use she'll have for a scarf on Mars he has no idea, but he still finished it and managed to keep it a secret from her. It's crocheted from several shades of red, and she squeals when he hands it to her, his ears flaming red.

"You're so _sweet_!" she exclaims, and hugs him, her arms tight around his neck. "We're on a _spaceship_ , you didn't have to do anything for me!"

"You only turn twenty-six once," he says, and she _beams_. Her lips brush his cheek in a thank you kiss, and he's glad that she turns away to wrap the scarf around herself and check her reflection when she pulls away. He is blushing far too hard to want her to look at him.

"I used to always have big birthday celebrations in college," she says softly, and she's staring at herself now. Lost in the past. "My roommate would wake me up with pancakes and we'd spend all day doing everything at once. To keep me busy and happy."

"Why did you need to be kept happy?" he asks, and her expression in the mirror darkens. "Oh...have I crossed a line?"

"It's okay," she says, and turns to face him, her fingers twisted into her scarf. "I had a twin brother. He died when I was fifteen. Car accident that we were both in, but I got out with just whiplash and bruised bones. And...when my roommate in college found out it was my birthday but I wouldn't celebrate because of him, she made it her mission to make me enjoy my day again."

"I'm sorry," he says, and she just shakes her head.

"It was ten years ago now," she says.

"Still...there's no time limit on grief," he says. "I should know." She eyes him curiously, and he says, "I didn't know who my parents were until I was fourteen and someone at school showed me how to find them. And my mother, she...she left me at the hospital because she was an alcoholic. And I found out that she...died. It killed her."

Tears are prickling his eyes, and he feels so stupid, crying over a woman he never knew almost fourteen years after finding it out, and then Wanda's hands are on his face, her thumb brushing a tear away. "It's okay," she says, and gives him a perfect, tremulous smile. "Families are complicated, right? A tragic backstory shared is a tragic backstory halved."

"Still," he sniffs, and blinks the tears out of his eyes. "It's your birthday. What do you want to do?"

Her gaze slants to the pile of champagne bottles, and her eyes gleam. "Get drunk?" she suggests, and he smiles.

"Whatever the birthday girl wants." And she grins and goes to pop the cork out of the first bottle of champagne with surprising finesse.

Hours later, he's sitting in the chair by the chess board, watching her. She's wearing a red dress for her birthday, and it clings to her curves, and he's doing his best not to have any illicit thoughts about the way the thin material spins around her slender thighs, the way it clings to her breasts. Her cheeks are pink with champagne and her eyes are brighter than the stars and she perches on the edge of the table, her legs crossed in front of her.

"Are you one of those melancholy drunks?" she asks, and he shakes his head. "Then why won't you dance with me?"

"I'm a terrible dancer," he says, and clasps a hand to the back of his stiff neck. "And my neck hurts."

" _That_ is because you keep insisting on sleeping in the chair instead of sharing the bed," she says. "It's fine, you know. I'd stop sleeping naked if you wanted to not permanently fuck up your neck."

And he really wishes she hadn't put that image in his head. "I'm fine," he says. "There's a bed waiting for me on Mars."

"Me too," she says, all dreamy and tipsy and smiling. "At least...I hope there is."

"Of course there will be," he says. "You're getting engaged."

And there's suddenly sadness sparkling in her eyes, the happy tipsiness leaving her for melancholy, and she turns her pleading gaze on him. "But what if he says _no_?" she asks, her voice breaking, and he wonders how long she's held that in. "He might say it, and then what would I do? I've been with him since I was nineteen, I don't...I don't know who I am without him."

"He won't say no," he reassures her. "Everything you've told me...it sounds like he's madly in love with you. And...maybe he'd only say no because he has to stay on Mars until his contract ends and you have to be on Earth."

"Yeah, funny story," she says. "Last time we spoke, he said he was thinking about signing an extension of his contract. Says he likes the people on Mars, he likes helping them along. He's started doing some of the agriculture stuff, working in the greenhouses. He sounded happy. Like he didn't miss me at all. He says 'I love you', but he sounds like a robot."

"I'm sure he'll change his mind if you let him know you want to marry him," he says, and there's a tear sliding down her cheek, and he doesn't know what to do. "Wanda...please don't cry."

"I was just a kid when he fell in love with me," she sniffles. "I don't think he loves who I am now. Before we left, I...I hadn't talked to him in a _month_. He didn't answer me _once_. My own boyfriend ghosted me, I'm inherently unlovable-"

"You're not unlovable," he says, and she looks up. There are tears in her eyes, mirroring the stars painted over the windows, and he's being far too honest. He's laying too much of himself bare, but he can't stand to watch her cry. "You're _so_ lovable, Wanda. I promise."

Her lips are on his in an instant. She tastes like salt, like tears, like champagne and starlight, and her hand is on his cheek, the ridges of her rings pressing into his skin. And he tells himself he shouldn't kiss her back, that she's tipsy and upset and it's all the shades of wrong to kiss her. He should be pushing her away and telling her to go to bed.

But he doesn't. He kisses her back, like an idiot, pouring three months of pining into one kiss. And she's stepping away from the table and into his lap, her thighs wrapped around his hips short-circuiting him, and her tongue is swiping teasingly over the seam between his lips and only then does she pull away.

"Sleep with me tonight," she says, and he gapes, all the blood in him rushing downwards so frantically he prays she doesn't notice. "I mean...hold me. Just until I'm asleep."

And maybe he's not smart enough to deserve the title Doctor Shade and a position as Tony Stark's research assistant. Because he follows her to the bedroom, turns respectfully away while she changes into shorts and a baggy shirt, and lays down beside her. They aren't even touching, not really.

But the intimacy of listening to her breathing slow as she slips into sleep tears a hole right through him.

* * *

The ruddy surface of Mars coming into view should have been one of the most transcendent moments of his career. The shining domes of the colony and the launchpad waiting to accept the shuttle should have sent a thrill through him, should have marked the new chapter of his life. But instead he's looking at Wanda, her eyes hopeful and the square shape in the pocket of the grey cardigan covering her black dress, and his heart is sinking, the bottom falling out of his stomach. He's not ready to say goodbye.

Then she darts away from the window, dabbing at her face, frantically saying, "Oh my God, oh my _God_ , James is with Stark, I didn't know he was _that_ high up on the security detail, he's _right_ there, I...how do I look?"

"Shocked," Vision says, and she huffs at him.

"No, how do I _look_?" she insists, and he looks at her. The green of her eyes, her long dark eyelashes, the perfect shape of her lips. The lips he still dreams of, but pretends he hasn't kissed for her sake. For the quiet way she asked him in the morning to forget what had happened, and he agreed. He was a tipsy mistake for someone who loves another man, and he won't ruin it for her. He can't.

"Beautiful," he breathes. And then the door is hissing open to fill the silence, and he's tugging at his blazer before he steps out onto the platform.

"Doctor Shade!" Tony Stark shouts, and he's moving towards him, enthusiastically shaking his hand. He's smaller in person, but has enough charm for three people, holding out an arm to the stunningly beautiful redhead next to him. "You know my wife, of course. This is Pepper, the beauty and the brains behind this whole project. I just pay for everything." Then he pulls another man forward, with a shy smile and salt-and-pepper curls, and says, "And this is Doctor Bruce Banner. He's our most qualified person, since all I have is a lowly Masters degree compared to all your PhDs. And this is-"

"James," comes the breath from behind Vision. And the man in all-black is staring over his shoulder, at Wanda standing there. She's tangling her fingers together, nervous, and Tony is blinking in surprise.

"Wanda," the man who must be James says, and she smiles faintly. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you," she says. "I missed you. I...I love you, James. I don't want to be apart anymore."

"Wanda, we _talked_ about this..." He trails off, seemingly suddenly becoming aware of where they are, of Vision and Tony and Bruce and Pepper staring at them. "Come on. We can have this conversation in my room."

And half of Vision's heart goes with Wanda when she walks away with her boyfriend. When he watches her hand slide into his, and it takes a long moment before he can slip on the professional mask and say, "It's wonderful to meet you all. I'm so honoured to be here, Mr. Stark."

"Oh please, we're a little Martian family up here," Tony says. "First name basis and all. So, Victor-"

"Vision," he corrects, and his new boss grins and nods.

"Who was the girl?" he asks, and Vision sighs.

"James' girlfriend," he says. "She wanted to come here to propose to him, and I let her on my shuttle. I know it was inappropriate-"

"Oh, stuff inappropriate," Tony says, waving an airy hand. "I'll never let it be known that Tony Stark doesn't stand in approval of young love. I didn't even know Barnes had a girlfriend." He smiles, sweeps out an arm back towards the entrance to the colony and says, "Come on, Vision. Let me give you the tour."

Something about what he said makes Vision bristle as he follows him through the labs, Bruce's shyness giving way to enthusiasm as he talks about their research. If Wanda was his, everyone he ever met would know about it. He would never hide her away or keep her secret. She's special, and she deserves to be loved publicly and proudly.

But none of that matters. She's with her boyfriend, the man he brought her here to propose to. One kiss when she was tipsy means nothing. And he needs to pull his head out his ass and stop dreaming.

The tour takes hours. Night is falling by the time Tony stops talking, and he takes Vision to one last stop. A blooming garden, tucked away beneath a dome, and he smiles at the wonder on Vision's face. "We obviously have the greenhouses, for all the food we need," he says. "But this is just for show. Somewhere peaceful to come and remember how beautiful Earth can be." He nudges Vision knowingly and says, "Stay here as long as you want. You seem sad."

"I...I'm very happy to be here, Mr. Stark-"

"Oh, I don't dispute that, kid," Tony says. "But it's the girl, isn't it? You're infatuated, aren't you?" Vision feels the tips of his ears flame red, and his boss laughs. "I know the look you give her. I see it when I look at Pep. We're on a different planet, surrounded by stars, and she's still the brightest thing in my universe."

Vision flushes, and then he quietly says, "She has a boyfriend."

"And when I met Pep, I was a notorious playboy," Tony says. "Never underestimate the power of love to change people." He grins. "And _that_ is the best lesson you're gonna learn on Mars, kid. Enjoy the flowers."

He walks away, and Vision turns into the magic of the garden. There's a fountain bubbling away somewhere, and the flowers are beautiful and brightly coloured, and he can look up through the dome and see the stars and everything is magical.

Then he rounds the corner to find the fountain, and Wanda is sitting there. And he almost stumbles away again, thinking James will be with her. But then she looks up at the sound of his stumbling into a bush, and her eyes are red, her face silvery with tearstains, and he can't move away. "Hi," she says softly, and her voice is thick with emotion, and he moves towards her.

"Are you alright?" he asks, and she shakes her head. "Where's James?"

"In his room," she says, and raises a hand to wipe her eyes. "We, um..." She laughs, a hollow, wet sound, and says, "I guess I'm single and I came to Mars for no reason."

" _Wanda_." He moves so fast to sit down next to her, putting an arm around her shaking shoulders. "Did he say no?"

"I didn't even ask," she says softly, and her eyes find his. "He asked why I'd come all this way, and I said it was to see him. And he pointed out that we haven't talked in five months, and that people who are supposed to be in love don't do that. And I said I was here to be with him and so we could be together again, and he just kept pointing out that we don't fit together anymore." She tangles her fingers together into fists and says, "That just because we made it through graduating college and becoming adults doesn't mean we'll make it through anything. That we went stale a long time ago."

"Wanda, I'm so sorry-"

"And you know what?" she asks. "He's right. That's the maddening thing. We did fizzle out a long time ago. I just...I was in love with him for so long that it felt like part of me. I didn't know how to notice when it went away." Then she looks at him, and Vision's chest clenches at the look in her eyes, the unexplored galaxies of emotion that could drown him. "But it did. I'm not in love with him anymore. And coming here was...stupid, and desperate. Like proposing could fix anything."

"Regardless, it's still a terrible situation," Vision says. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," she says miserably. "I guess I'm stuck on Mars, with no job and no boyfriend and nothing to do. Maybe Stark will send me home and I can go back with my tail between my legs telling everyone I didn't find myself."

"Or..." The word slips out before he can stop it, and then she's turning that curious gaze on him. "I...I could give you a reason to stay."

"I don't think Stark would like his research assistant having an assistant who didn't even study a science," she says, and he shakes his head.

"Stay with _me_ ," he breathes, and the moment stills, fragile as glass. "I know we said we wouldn't bring up that kiss. But...I like you, Wanda. Travelling with you was...the most exquisite agony, knowing you were someone else's. But...if you're not, and...I know you were with him for a long time. And I'm being wildly disrespectful, but I...I _like_ you. And...I would never push you away or go silent on you. I want to be with you, if you wanted to."

She stares at him. Silent and wary, and he thinks he's made a huge mistake. Then the sun lights up her smile, the freckles like a constellation over her nose and cheeks, and she kisses him. A long, lingering, coming-home kiss, and when they pull apart for the briefest moment he slides his nose softly against hers and quietly, reverently repeats, "Stay with me."

"I'm staying," she whispers back, and he pulls her into his arms under the starlight.


End file.
